Title: Story of a Gypsy King

Summary: Life is never easy for the King of the Truands, but a well-timed joke and the finest girl in France never fails to bring him joy in this dark little world. A slightly twisted version of the Hunchback story with our favourite jester as the main character. Rated M for lemon and graphic depictions of torture in later chapters. Clopin/Esmeralda.

Characters: Clopin Trouillefou, La Esmeralda (pairing)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance

Quick note: I really hated writing this chapter, don't know why, so if it's a bit short I'm sorry but I just needed a quick something before the next chapter, so it's just a lot of exposition really. Regardless, I hope you enjoy anyway. As always, author's notes and French translations are at the end!

CHAPTER THREE: Breaking the Silence

Several days passed since Clopin's drunken night in the tavern; since he'd drank more wine than he should ever drink; since he'd accidentally called Florica by Esme's name during their heated moment - which, much to his disappointment, he remembered as clear as day.

He hadn't seen Esmeralda since he'd taken her to bed, and not by accident either. There was no way of saying why exactly he was avoiding her, why he was doing whatever possible to make sure he was never in the same room as her. Maybe it was out of embarrassment; worry that Florica had let slip of what had transpired between them. The more rational side of his brain, however, told him it was because it was what he needed. He needed to get her off of his mind, to be able to stop thinking about her for more than ten minutes, to make sure what happened with Florica never happened again. The more time he spent with her only ended in his feelings for her increasing.

So he was doing whatever he could to distract himself. He went out on small missions with his troupe of men, spent time with the others and the children, putting on shows for them. He even left the Court by himself on some days to just wander Paris.

Much to his surprise, none of this had helped. As well as continuously thinking about her, he now found himself missing her too. Missing her smile and her beautiful emerald eyes. Missing the way she lit up any room that she entered. Missing the way her body moved so perfectly as she danced along to the rhythm of her tambourine, making countless men fall helplessly at her feet. He missed-

He mentally slapped himself. Why could he not get her out of his head?

(pull yourself together, Trouillefou.)

He groaned in frustration, allowing his body to sag against the stage outside of his tent, hearing it creak as his weight leant against it. It wasn't exactly sturdy; he'd set it up in the early hours of the morning in order to distract himself and to prepare for the upcoming Festival in town. The Festival of Fools. It was the one day in the year that he and his people could roam the streets of Paris without fear of prosecution. The day that men, women and children alike all travelled from far and wide to hear their songs and watch their magical feats and performances. He'd been convinced the festivities would have been enough to get his mind off everything; it was his favourite time of year after all. He adored any chance to perform some magic and dance routines to a large crowd.

He pushed long strands of hair out of his face, finding it to be slick with sweat, grabbing a band from his pocket to tie it out of the way for now. It was hard to think when you were constantly finding hair in your mouth. The Festival was taking place tomorrow afternoon, and although he had everything planned out perfectly, he still felt extremely unprepared. He'd run through the schedule too many times to count, fixing everything in place. He would appear to the crowd by jumping out from the parade that would march through the square beforehand, inserting himself and presenting the Festival as the Master of Ceremonies, warming up the audience with some light magic and comedy. Then the girls would join him for the dancing and singing before leading up the main attraction, crowning the King of Fools. This was a little running theme they had every year, where they crowned the ugliest man or woman in the crowd. The townspeople loved this particular part of the show, so they kept it in every year. It also drew everyone's attention away for long enough that Clopin and the other Romani in the crowd could pick the pockets of a few distracted citizens before slipping away back to the Court, unnoticed by the Guards.

It was foolproof, and yet even with everything set out accordingly, he still felt something was missing.

Or someone, for that matter.

Esmeralda had always been involved in the Festival ever since she was a little girl when Clopin had first taught her how to dance. Though he had tried hard to keep her out of sight back then, she had always insisted on jumping up on stage and joining in with the other ladies when they danced for the people, and she still loved it just as much these days. Hardly a day went by when Es wasn't performing, dancing or singing with her fellow Romani. Clopin had caught her dancing several times out on the streets as well, even though the Guards had threatened to arrest her on many occasions. He was starting to come around to the fact that he couldn't look out for her as much as he used to, as hard as he still tried. She was her own spirit, wild and carefree, and loved to stand out from the others. As much as Clopin admired this about her, sometimes he wished she wouldn't be so reckless.

Though... he was hardly one to talk.

Even so, it felt wrong to be planning everything out like this without her beside him. He always loved to have her opinion, and he knew that she would want to be a part of the Festival just as much as he did. She'd probably want a dance by herself, no doubt, which, though potentially dangerous for her, would definitely draw more people's attention, especially the men. However, asking her to be a part of the Festival meant going to see her, and after a week of avoiding her, she probably wasn't too eager to see him. It would also require him breaking the pact he'd made with himself to stay away from her, running the risk of falling more in love with her than he already was, but... he couldn't help but miss her. They'd spent almost their entire life together, not seeing her was strange. Even if she just slammed the door in his face upon seeing him, it would be worth it.

Decided, he pulled himself up from the stage and sorted out his clothes, letting his hair down once again. He wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead from all the dancing he'd been doing in practice, before starting to head down towards the main settlement. He passed children, men and women alike all running around in hurry to prepare for tomorrow, eager that they wouldn't miss a second of it. If he didn't know any better, he knew that everyone would be rushing out as soon as the sun came up, wanting to enjoy a normal day in Paris whilst they could. He couldn't help the smile on his face when he saw them all, seeing everyone so happy an excited made him burst with joy; it was so much better than seeing them constantly worried for their own lives. It was why he loved the Festival so much. Walking through the large mass of people, stopping occasionally to greet people or applaud their rehearsed dances for the day, he finally stopped outside of Esmeralda's caravan, seeing her door open invitingly.

He felt a sudden twinge of panic go through him, trying to think of what to say, wondering if he would have to apologise for his rude avoidance of her. His brain was shouting at him to just leave instead. He only shook his head at himself, knowing things would only get worse the longer he left it. With a deep breath, he pushed away his fear and stepped up to the caravan, knocking on the door rhythmically.

'Esmeralda?' He called, managing to sound much more confident than he actually felt. When there was no response, he peered his head around to see inside and frowned on discovering that the place was empty. He stood in the doorway dumbfoundedly, wondering where she could be, she was usually always here before Festivals practicing her own routines and dances.

'Hello, stranger.' A voice suddenly chimed from behind him, causing him to jump and turn quickly on his feet, coming face to the face with the lady in question. She stood just below him on the steps, wearing a purple skirt and... (was that one of his shirts?), her arms folded and her beautiful smile present on her face. It took him a moment to collect himself before he grinned widely down at her.

'Ah, there you are. I was wondering where you'd got to.' He said, with all the false bravado he could conjure.

'Oh, I was just showing some routines to the men in the tavern, for critique, since you seem to have been unavailable.' She quipped lightly, brushing past him as she stepped into the caravan, paying him no heed. He racked his brain to think of an excuse.

'Yes, well... apparently being King keeps one rather busy.'

She paused, 'Busy? Is that what you call avoiding me for an entire week? Leaving the room every time I came in? Not even bothering with so much as a 'Hello'?' She asked, her tone edging in anger. The expression on her face was terrible, looking at him with hurt and sadness, clearly upset that he hadn't given her the time of day recently, especially after everything she had done for him. The smile on his face disappeared, feeling an awful pang of guilt.

'Esmeralda...' He breathed, 'I am so sorry. I-'

'You don't have to explain.' She cut him off, her eyes fixed on her hands. He looked up from the floor in surprise, watching her mess with the fabric of her sleeve absently. 'You've had a rough few weeks, it isn't exactly shocking that you'd need some time to yourself.'

'Even still, it was wrong of me to distance myself from you like that.' He admitted glumly, not understanding how she could possibly be so forgiving of him, she was impossibly kind. He stepped over cautiously, reaching out to take her hands, kneeling down in front of her. 'I am sorry, Esme. I promise it will not happen again. If it does, you have my permission to put me in the stocks and tickle me mercilessly.' He joked, as his hands shot out and tickled her sides with his fingers, still remembering all her weak spots. She laughed and jumped away, swatting at his hands, her smile returning.

'In front of the Court?' She pried, brows arching. He sighed and held a hand up to his head, dramatically.

'I suppose it is only necessary.' He said, extravagantly, to which she laughed once more and rolled her eyes fondly. He smiled as he drew himself up again, squeezing her hands. 'Am I forgiven, Cherie?' He checked, looking at her pleadingly. She considered him briefly, before she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into an embrace.

'Of course.' She whispered, happily, and he smiled and returned the embrace tightly, holding her for a brief moment before spinning her around in his arms, much to her delight, and then landing her back on her feet smoothly.

'So, these dances you've been doing. What are they for?'

'Well, actually, I was thinking that maybe I could... join you on stage tomorrow?' She asked, biting her lip, unable to contain her excitement. 'I know you think it's dangerous and that you don't like me being on stage in front of all the Guards, but I can fend for myself now and I really think I could- why are you laughing?' She asked, frowning as she watched him press a hand to his stomach to quell his chuckles, wiping a fake tear from his eye.

'That's the reason I came to find you in the first place, isn't that a wonderful coincidence?' He chuckled once again, smiling up at her. 'I was going to ask you to dance tomorrow at the Festival, just before we crown the King of Fools.' He explained, and her face immediately lit up, happier than he'd seen her look in a while.

'Really? You want me to do that?'

'Of course I do. You're a wonderful dancer and, you're right, you can fend for yourself now.' He admitted reluctantly, pushing down the worry he felt about the whole situation. 'Will you do it?'

'Clopin, you know I would never turn that down.' She practically exclaimed, her arms wrapping around him once again, kissing his cheek in delight. 'Thank you so much.'

'Anytime, my dear.' He smiled, pulling back to look at her again. 'So, do I get to see this wonderful routine you have prepared?'

'You will... when I'm on stage.' She smirked, smug. 'It's a surprise, but I'm sure you will love it.'

'Ah, well, you know how much I love surprises.'

'Exactly. Now,' she began, taking his hands and leading him to the door, 'go and finish getting ready. We don't have long and... I'm going to need to work on my routine more now.' She ordered, smiling, to which he bowed to her in compliance.

'As you command, ma dame. I still have a few last minute adjustments to make to my outfit anyway.' He grinned, opening the door to leave.

'You'll look as handsome as ever, I'm sure.' She said, surprisingly, which caused him to stop for a beat to take in what she'd said.

'Well, of course,' he played off smoothly, 'nothing could falter these good looks.' He smirked, winking up at her before sauntering off again back up to his tent. She shook her head fondly as he left, watching him go before shutting her door and leaning against it thoughtfully.

He really did look handsome in those outfits of his.

Author's Notes:

- Like I said at the start, really short chapter, it's just a small lead up to the Festival and it's awful and I hate it, but I've tried to improve it as much as I could. Next chapter will be focused all on the Festival so I promise it will be better! Thank you for reading anyway!

French Translations (According to Google Translate):

- Cherie - Sweetheart

- Ma Dame - My Lady